


you can't buy your husband a fucking lamp for Christmas

by bishopsknifepatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Christmas, Joe is a mood, M/M, Pete and Patrick are shitheads, a lot of swearing, probably the best thing I've wrote, what the fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 04:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13023390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishopsknifepatrick/pseuds/bishopsknifepatrick
Summary: "Who do need to shop for anyway?” Joe asked.“Oh, just a few people, Andy, my mom, Patrick,” Pete said, mumbling the last name.“Wait, did you seriously not get something for him yet? What is wrong with you?” Joe said, mouth full of burrito.“Lots of things. One thing at a time, Joe,” Pete said.





	you can't buy your husband a fucking lamp for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ybcpatrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ybcpatrick/gifts).



> KELL AND I WROTE MATCHING FICS, GO READ HIS PLEASE!!!!

Pete knocked on the bedroomdoor. And he knocked again. No response. 

Well, I guess it was time to check and make sure he's not dead or something. 

He walked over to him and just looked at him, attempting to figure whether or not he was breathing. He knelt down closer to his face, tapping his shoulder right after. 

“WHAT!” the raspy voice yelled, jumping back a bit, stunning Pete for a second. 

“Hey Joe, Patrick went out grocery shopping with Andy for the day, so I was wondering if you wanted to go Christmas shopping with me?” Pete said, softly.

“Who is this? What year is it?”

“Pete, y’know? One of your best friends, we've had a band together for like 16 years?”

“Oh yeah, Pete,” Joe said, almost surprised. “What time is it anyway?”, he sat up and rubber his face.

“Eight o’clock?”

“Well, I think, that if we've known each for 16 years, you should know I do not become a functionable human being until at least 10:04,” laying down again, burying himself in the blanket. 

“Joe, please get your ass out of bed and help me.”

An hour later, Pete was sitting in his car outside the house, honking the horn repeatedly trying to grab his attention. 

It was December 23. Two days before Christmas, and the mall was packed with people. Pete headed over to the map, “I think we should try looking on level two first.” He turned back, soon realizing that Joe was no longer behind him, but instead over in line for the burrito stand. Pete violently whispered in his direction, “JOE!” 

At that time, Joe turned back to see Pete making an awful amount of hand motions. He rolled his eyes and turned back to face the employee handing him his burrito. 

“Who do need to shop for anyway?” Joe asked. 

“Oh, just a few people, Andy, my mom, Patrick,” Pete said, mumbling the last name. 

“Wait, did you seriously not get something for him yet? What is wrong with you?” Joe said, mouth full of burrito. 

“Lots of things. One thing at a time, Joe,” Pete said. 

“No, its just weird, last year you planned an elaborate party and got him that stupid ring-”

“Hey! That ring wasn't stupid!” Pete yelled before his voice crumbled to soft mumbles, “It was meaningful.”

“Yeah, an engagement ring, so original!” Joe said. “And this year, you got nothing and that is definitely stupid.”

“Whatever. What do you think he’ll like anyway?” Pete said, with confusion dripping from his voice. 

“He’s your fucking husband,” Joe spit out, looking at Pete deadpanned. Pete was looking around at all the outlets, oblivion to the fact he was blocking the path for other shoppers. 

Joe grabbed Pete’s wrist, dragging him to the gift shop in front of them. 

“Do you think he’ll like this?” Pete said, holding up a desk lamp. 

“Are you seriously fucking thinking about getting your fucking husband a fucking lamp? You have to be shiting me right now.”

“His desk is dark and lonely though.” Joe looked at Pete sternly, to which he sat the lamp back down the display shelf. He picked up a blanket this time. Joe shook his head, “But the little guy is cold.” 

“Well, fuck me if I know, Peter. I just know that I wouldn’t let my husband buy me a fucking lamp or blanket as a christmas present if he got me a fucking diamond?” Joe argued very loudly in the dead silent shop. 

Pete practically threw the blanket back, walking forward through the aisle. Seeing something, he ran towards it, “What about this?” He held up an elegant glass figurine of a reindeer. 

“I think he’ll like it,” Joe said, sincerely for the first time today. 

“Okay!” Pete said, getting excited. He headed towards the end of the aisle, but his luck failed him. His shoe was gotten caught on the shelf support and he fell forward, the glass shattering as it hit the floor. “Fuck,” was all Pete murmured. 

A sales associate rushed over, stopping and staring at Pete as she did so. 

“You know you’re going to have to pay for that.”

“Yeah,” Pete quietly said, nodding in shame. 

At the till, Pete stood there feeling a kid who just disappointed his mother because they shouldn't be touching things. “That will be $200,” the associate said. 

Both of their jaws dropped. Pete couldn’t put together a string of words, meanwhile Joe, “But it broke so easily? How can something so small be worth so much?” 

Twenty minutes later, they walked out of the shop with a gift bag of glass for Pete and a slightly higher credit card bill for Joe.

"What if I buy him a car?”

"You can't get a car in less than two days, not even you could pull that off,"  
Joe argued.

"Try me.”

 

"You're a picky little bitch. It take you two days just to figure out what colour you want.” Pete stood there starstruck. "And the car isn't even for you.”

They walked into a Macy’s next, Pete practically running to the music section. 

He was amazed as he spun around, viewing all of the different instruments hung up on the shelves. 

"What about a guitar?" Pete blurted out, staring as a ocean blue one.

"Not as bad as the rest of your ideas, but he has nineteen. Don't be an enabler,” Joe said, knowing exactly that Patrick probably won’t even use it, but keep it hung up on the wall of their home studio. 

 

“Bu-” Pete tried to argue. 

"That bitch would cover all the walls with guitars if he could."

 

“I like guitars, to-” again, he tried to speak. 

"You'd just be feeding into his addiction Pete, don't do it.”

They were at one end of an aisle looking at record players. Pete was lost in the sea of colours that sat on the shelf. Joe’s boredom was taking control of him, causing him to look anywhere else but the record players to help the dumb fuck he was standing next to. 

Staring down the aisle he saw Andy? Why? They made eye contact, and then he turned back to look at Pete who hadn’t taken his eyes off the record players. He panicked. Then he looked to his right, seeing...Patrick? ...in the cart? Now that would be a question he was going to need an answer for, but that had to wait for now. He panicked. What the fuck was going to happen if they saw each other? Especially, since he could practically tell Patrick had also forgotten to get Pete a present because they are both shitfaces for husbands. 

“Do you think he’ll like a blue one?” Pete said, completely oblivious to the scene that was occurring. 

Still keeping his eyes on his husband, Joe responded, “No. No, keep looking.”

In a matter of seconds, Andy was standing there alone violently pointing at Joe. Patrick had basically disappeared. He could hear Patrick screaming as he rolled away.

“What was that?” Pete said, turning to face Joe, but was instead pushed back to face the players. 

“Oh, it was probably just some whiny kid, y’know? Getting yelled at by their mom,” Joe frantically spat out, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

“Huh, sounded familiar.”

He turned back to Andy, who had put his finger to his lips, shushing Joe, followed by a slicing finger across the neck motion. A look of fear washed across Joe’s face, putting his hands up in a defense, nodding his head. 

Joe smiled, blowing a kiss at Andy, to which he received Andy giving him the middle finger. Andy took off in the direction he sent Patrick. 

Pete sighed, his frustration showing. “I don’t know anymore, Joe.”

“Yo, it's okay, you don't need to get him a record player.”

“Then, what do I get him? The dude has practically every instrument.”

“Okay, fine, let’s get out of here and walk through the mall and get you something to eat, because you being a whiny little bitch is not going to help anything.” 

“Okay, okay,” Pete said, walking forward, Joe following. “Did you just call me a whiny little bitch?”

“It was out of love, so shut up.” 

They made a second trip to the burrito stand since they've arrived at the mall (third if you count that time that Pete was in the washroom (probably to cry) and Joe went there while waiting for him). Pete was munching on his, using it to fill the exaggerated sadness because he didn't know what to get his husband for Christmas. “I should just give up.”

“We still got time,” Joe said, trying his best to be comforting.

“He’s gonna leave me, Joe, I don't think I can handle that.”

“Pete, stop, he’s not gonna fucking leave you. If he were, it definitely be over a much stupider reason than that,” Pete tuned out halfway through that, intently staring through the window of the drugstore they were walking by. Joe came back, “What do you see now?”

“That little bear,” Pete practically whispered, “with the purple heart.”

“You can even have a message engraved on the bottom of it,” Joe noticed. Next thing you know, they were in the shop speaking with the cashier. She gave Pete a slip of cardstock to write the message he wanted engraved. 

Joe was standing behind him, and Pete tried blocking him out. “Joe, go away,” he said, cupping his hands over top of the slip. 

“Fine, fine,” Joe said, backing away and sitting on a random chair against the wall. “At least make it so other people can read it, Pete.”

“Leave me alone!” Pete yelled back. 

///

They all gathered in the living room, like their own little family. Everything felt peaceful and relaxing with the colourful lights glowing as they wrapped around the tree in the corner. And little homemade shitty stockings hanging across the fireplace on a little string, each having one of their names stitched onto its front. The boys were all sitting on the couches and chair enclosing the living in their pyjamas. 

“So, how about we have Pete and Patrick go first? What did you guys get each other?” Andy smirked. 

Pete reached over to a red paper bag with white snowflakes decorating it's outside, and tissue paper delicately arranged sticking out of the top of it. 

“It looks so pretty,” Patrick said, admiring the bag.

“I know right! If I had done it, it would not have looked this nice,” Pete said, joining in with the excitement of the paper bag. 

“JUST OPEN THE PRESENT!” Joe yelled, making a megaphone shape over his mouth. 

“Harsh, but okay,” Patrick said, picking up the paper dramatically and throwing it over the back of the couch. He picked up the object covered in multiple layers of tissue paper. “Ooh what’s this?” He threw the rest of the paper in front of him, holding up a little glass figurine, holding a little purple heart in its arms. 

Patrick’s face softened, a smile arising, “This is so cute.” 

“Read what it says,” Pete urged. 

He put the bear closer to his face, reading the line on the little heart. “‘I love you beary much’,” Patrick giggled. “That’s so cheesy and you know it, you motherfucker.”

“And the little blurb on the bottom.”

“‘I will shield you from the waves, if they find you, I will protect you’, god fuck I hate you and love you,” Patrick said, trying to be mad at the cheesiness of the gift, but he loved it too much already. 

“Patrick’s turn!” Andy yelled, because despite the cuteness of the moment, the grossness was too overwhelming. 

Patrick reached down beside him, grabbing a fair sized silver box with a white ribbon tying it shut. He handed it to Pete who sat it down on his lap. He pulled the ribbon, to which it fell. He lifted up the lid, an immediate smile on his face.

The box contained a denim jacket, neatly folded. He picked it up by the shoulders of the jacket. He noticed all the patches sewed onto denim. They were logos for several bands including Metallica, The Get Up Kids, and Green Day. He even noticed the little volcano logo for their own band on the edge of the sleeve on the wrist. He beamed at it, holding the jacket up with one hand and swiping his hand across the front of the jacket and logos. “I love it!”

He immediately pulled it over his shoulders, putting on the jacket. “Great, he’s never going to take it off now,” Joe muttered. 

“Y’know? He’s not wrong,” Pete said, turning towards Patrick. He leaned in to give him a kiss, Patrick reciprocating. 

Joe shielded Andy’s eyes with one hand and his own with the other. 

“Thank you, Patrick.”

“And thanks, Pete,” Patrick said, immediately regretting it, and Pete burst into laughter, laying back on the couch. Andy and Joe looked over at the two, before looking back at each other, acknowledging that they were complete idiots, who were so easily impressed with one another. 

Patrick sat there looking embarrassed, but still wanting to laugh himself.


End file.
